tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53871116117515934922023-11-16T09:25:18.594-08:00Mr. ScrivnerMr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-49021039925824111392019-03-29T20:35:00.002-07:002019-03-29T20:35:29.693-07:00Just a note to those who may be checking to see if this Blog is still live.<br />
It is.<br />
It hasn't been directly accessible for a while.<br />
More stories, tales and comments to come, since I found my way back.<br />
<br />
Peace.Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-85004198400707320502016-08-06T10:37:00.004-07:002016-08-06T10:37:52.112-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
Dead Parrot</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Warning: some less knowledgeable will assume I am using bad language. I am not.</div>
<br />
In days of old when nights were cold, oh, wrong story.<br />
<br />
In the old days, most people walked to get about. There were other forms of transportation, but they were used by the wealthy and royalty. In some instances, they were exclusive to royalty. One of those modes was the ass. Some folks would prefer I use the word burro or donkey.<br />
<br />
A really wealthy person or royalty would have a stable of said animals. If they traveled long distances, they would have a retinue. The animals would be rotated like we rotate the tires (tyres) on our vehicles to extend tread life. They would be a able to actually travel farther and more quickly by allowing the animals to rest unburdened.<br />
<br />
If an animal were to die in 'the traces', as it were, a servant would be dispatched to get a replacement, one which had the most rest, much like a manager signalling for a relief pitcher, was brought forward. The retinue would continue, leaving the dead animal beside the 'road' to be dispatched by scavengers. The natural order of things, PETA.<br />
<br />
The next time one hears a human being telling another human being to 'get off their dead ass...', remember, either person is likely ignorant of the origin of the phrase. Person One is simply pointing out a servant is not going to appear with another imaginary ass, donkey, burro. to carry Person Two away.<br />
<br />
As for the 'Dead Parrot', may I direct you to the 'Egress'. Keep a sharp eye out for a 'Python' named 'Monty'.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-33174723841621723882016-08-05T08:51:00.000-07:002016-08-05T08:51:38.222-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
More On the Language Police</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Warning: contains language some may find offensive</div>
<br />
I probably should add an additional warning, but then, some I'm trying to reach would shy away.<br />
<br />
I'm a Christian. I make no apologies. I am a fundamentalist. I make no apologies.<br />
<br />
The issue with some folks is they have not the slightest idea what a Christian is. They are prejudiced. They have formed an opinion based on the 'witness' of others. That witness would not stand up in a court of law. It would be inadmissible as hearsay.<br />
Let me repeat myself: It would be inadmissible as hearsay!<br />
<br />
Examine the evidence!<br />
<br />
The second issue it fundamentalism. Read the previous. I could be pedantic. I taught at the post secondary level. Christian fundamentalists are NOT uneducated, wild eyed fanatics. There are five (5) points, positions which identify a Christian fundamentalist.<br />
<br />
Examine the evidence!<br />
<br />
Now to get down to 'brass tacks'.<br />
<br />
In my previous 'Language Police' post, I referred to a word that used to be used in past conversation. I also ranted about the crazy, insane, prohibition of Latin abbreviations. Here is another word the uneducated snigger about: piss.<br />
<br />
For those who get wound up, I present to you the King James Version of the Bible.<br />
<br />
I Samuel 25:22, 34<br />
I Kings 14:10; 16:11; 21:21<br />
II Kings 9:8; 18:27<br />
Isaiah 36:12<br />
<br />
To unbelievers, your ignorance will be your own death.<br />
<br />
To believers, your ignorance weakens or destroys your witness.<br />
<br />
I'm praying for all humanity.<br />
<br />
Blessings.<br />
Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-29583849883994557012016-08-05T08:05:00.000-07:002016-08-05T08:05:13.997-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
Language Police</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Warning: use of antiquated language now considered 'vulgar'.</div>
<br />
I am an amateur etymologist, no not bugs (entomologist), word origins. I am also an amateur semanticist: <span>the meanings of words and phrases in a particular context. That is only one part of the word's meaning, but this is my primary focus. This drives my family to distraction.</span><br />
<span> </span>Way back in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries a word was in common usage. Now, it is considered a vulgarism, scatological.<span> The word is 'shit'. As a verb,</span><br />
<span> present tense: shit</span><br />
<span> past tense: shat</span><br />
<span> past perfect: shot</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span> Past perfect survives in reference to firearms, and as a noun for types of ammunition.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span> I have provided this background information to provide context for the 'Warning'.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span> The military has a saying: "A thousand 'Atta-boys' and a buck will get you a cup of coffee. One 'Aw-shit' wipes 'em all out." That is a scatological reference.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span> Regardless, us moderns have inserted a limitation on language for no real reason. Lately, it has been reported certain Web sites will not allow the use of Latin abbreviations, such as, for example, i.e., e.g. and etc.</span><br />
<span> I personally have and will in the future rebel against such inanity. Be advised, I will NOT provide warnings.</span><br />
<span> Caveat emptor!</span>Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-34053520540101395252016-05-28T20:48:00.000-07:002016-05-28T20:48:01.645-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
What We Claim to Know</div>
<br />
Hosea wrote it well, "My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge; because you have rejected knowledge, ..."<br />
This passage in the book of Hosea 4:6, should not be taken out of context. I will let the reader look at the entire chapter on their own. I suggest the Blue Letter Bible online.<br />
<br />
What prompted this was an opinion piece in the Jerusalem Post. It was a response to another opinion piece in the same online version of the Post. A Dr. Laitman had titled the first piece, "Fascism is looming over the U.S...". A David Turner wrote a response. I read Turner's response. I have not read Laitman's piece, yet. So my critique is aimed at Turner.<br />
Mr. Turner makes some quotes from the B'rit Hadashah. For those unfamiliar with this, it is the transliteration of Hebrew for New Testament. My question would be of Mr. Turner's understanding of the 'forbidden' portions of the Tanakh, their relationship to the B'rit Hadashah and the translation he quoted.<br />
He makes a point about Martin Luther and anti-Semitism. Luther wasn't always anti-Semitic. He became so after failing to convert any Hebrews, or Jews, if one prefers, after the Reformation got started.<br />
I don't like being lumped together with all the persons who claim to be Christian and are anti-Semitic. Broad brush strokes have a tendency to cover nuance, or obliterate.<br />
The main problem is claiming to know and not really knowing.<br />
For example, many of the mistakes made by Christians are, for the most part, made out of ignorance. Some of those mistakes have been compounded by people rejecting knowledge. Add those who, for whatever reason, are prejudiced and act on those prejudices, inflame matters. Add those who, for whatever reason, have an agenda to destroy the object of their prejudices throw accelerant on the flames.<br />
The Shoah, or Holocaust, killed millions of people. The Hebrews represented the majority of deaths. They were singled out for the most horrendous of violations. Other ethnic and religious groups were put to death as well.<br />
I am not here to equate the current persecution and murder of Christians to the Shoah.<br />
What am going to state is regarding Dr. Laitman's title.<br />
Fascism is not looming over the U.S. It is at work right now! Christians are one of the groups on the fascist hit list, unless we can be 're-educated'. Some of us will be offered 're-education'. Some won't.<br />
Some of us will go into captivity. Some of us will die by the sword.<br />
There are others who will face the same decision because of their religious views, their political views, and some who thought they held to the 'correct views' but are considered expendable.Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-59910497953635297202016-03-06T11:41:00.000-08:002016-03-06T11:41:55.212-08:00<div style="text-align: center;">
Back Porch Papers</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Volume 1, Number 1</div>
<br />
I pulled one of a pair of deck chairs, an anniversary gift from our daughter and son-in-law, out to the rear deck to enjoy the sun while reading the Sunday paper. I read the comics first, then the weekly tabloid insert, and finally settled down to actually reading the paper.<br />
I had an idea rambling around in my brain since my morning run for coffee and the paper. I was trying to distill it into a 300 word submission to said editorial section of said paper. I had a good draft in my head. I set it aside to enjoy the sun and avoid firing up the computer.<br />
Instead, I read the articles in the A section stopping to editorialize. Finishing I paused to watch a red tailed hawk circling to gain altitude. Instead of soaring about looking for its next meal, it began a long decent glide path from the area near a ridge, running south and east of the deck, to the west, northwest toward a creek. I could barely hear the call of its mate. It disappeared behind the housetops and treeline, from a approximately 100 foot drop in elevation from the 1020 feet of the deck to the 900 feet of the creek no more than a quarter of a mile from me.<br />
I decided to borrow the time to start this first of hopefully a few more posts of an editorial nature. The seed was planted by, interestingly enough, an editorial first printed in the Los Angeles Times and distributed by the Times nation wide. It was couched in progressive language, siting 'legal precedents' when in fact it was simply pushing an agenda toward the elimination of private property.<br />
How to respond?<br />
I have the paper copy. It is going to be time consuming to prepare a rebuttal. How to not let the moment escape researching a logical and reasoned response as the nation runs toward its destruction?<br />
Maybe a 300 word comparison in summary form.<br />
<br />
People have been appropriating and misappropriating language to bend others to their will for millennia. Some for noble causes. Others for ignoble causes. Private property rights are a case in point. Let us use a comparison that utilizes a 'hated' word which causes some, mistakenly, great 'anguish'.<br />
The alternative to 'private property rights' is the 'plantation'. The plantation is an old, outmoded method used in agrarian societies. It is actually inefficient. In its attempt to retain some semblance of efficiency it must stoop to crushing brutality, inhumane treatment of the principle resource, humans. It supposedly provides economic success, while destroying the very fabric of society.<br />
Moderns, so enamored of socialism, fail to realize, Karl Marx was waiting for a 'miracle' to occur in the 'sweat, or rather, sweet by and by' give me some pie. Socialism is the plantation writ large. A good propagandist knows how to 'turn a phrase'. An educated and knowledgeable populace is difficult to seduce.Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-84217346061803444672016-01-23T18:13:00.000-08:002016-01-23T18:13:28.443-08:00
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A Not So Safe House </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The woman was
furtively pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Had she not made a
false start toward the house,and likely, the front door, she
wouldn't have tripped the proximity alarm. I would have been alerted
later by the male creeping up toward the back deck and door
eventually.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">What in the world
were they planning? They didn't look like operatives. Home
invasion? Probably. This was an unlikely neighborhood, but
desperation makes people do unlikely things. The house on the left
was 'occupied'. Had a couple of vehicles parked out front appearing
to be on their last legs. The house on the right was boarded up, or
so it seemed. Many a homeless person had wasted their energy trying
to get in. Feeling sorry for them, I would call a deputy who would
transport them to a homeless shelter in the city.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> I caught sight of a
third person on the perimeter out front.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">How was this going
to play out? I felt a bit sorry for them. I had an older car out
front, but appeared to be in good shape. The handicapped plate was
not a ruse. I could still perform my primary job. My next
evaluation was over eight months away.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The woman headed
toward the front door. She was emoting terror, wailing as she
approached. She wasn't doing a half bad job. She was loud enough, I
guess, to alert the man in back. She started to pound on the front
door.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My voice startled
her.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“My dear what is
the problem?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">She couldn't see a
speaker, so she just yelled in the direction of the door, “He's
trying to kill me!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Who?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“My boyfriend!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Oh, my. We can't
let that happen. Just give me a moment. I'm not as fast as I used
to be.” Which was true. I suppose she was to gain entry and then
slip to the back. Upon finding the door, she would likely let that
accomplice in.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I tried to calm her,
assuring her I was on my way. In the meantime, I swiftly moved to
the back door.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Please, stop,
sir,” I asked in a low but firm voice.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He was a bit beefy.
Not much taller than I. I startled him. I had hoped he would turn
and run. I guess the open door behind me was too tempting. He tried
to tackle me. He might have been a football player in high school or
maybe college.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">He didn't really
hear the first shot. He just saw splinters kicked up in the deck in
front of him. He made the additional mistake of raising his
shoulders, then with single mindedness continued to run at me. The
next two shots hit him squarely in the chest. The fourth hit him in
the head. It was not my intent, but he stumbled at the last second.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The two out front
were not alerted as the suppressor did its job. I'm sure they were
wondering what was taking me so long.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I quickly dialed for
a clean up crew. Then, I alerted my associates next door to pick up
the second man out front as soon as the woman was let inside my
abode.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I made it to the
front door just as the woman was showing visible signs of indecision.
She should have gone with her gut.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I'm sorry, my
dear, I'm just not as fast, as I said. Where is your boyfriend?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Oh, thank you,
thank you,” she was effusive and trying to make her way in.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Your boyfriend?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Oh,” I startled
her again. “He must have heard your voice on your speaker system.
He's still out there. He seems to be waiting.” She was having
trouble shifting gears between stage panic and participating in a
reasoned conversation.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I wasn't going to
make it easy on her. “Do you think he might wish to come in and
join you? You know, maybe some coffee. A moment to clear each
others heads. It might save you future grief.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I've seen him do
this before. I thought he would treat me different.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Would you like to
come in? I can call the sheriff's department.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Yes, I would, but
no, don't call the police, at least not yet. If he has a chance to
cool off, he might just leave.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You don't think
he might follow you home?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Not likely. He's
more of a “find a bar and drown his sorrows' guy. I found that out
Friday. Could I get a drink of water?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“That might be a
problem at this juncture.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">She blinked her eyes
trying to sort out what I was saying. Her gut was telling her 'the
play' had gone south, but her brain was holding out it was still
salvageable.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You might want to
sit down.” I shifted my stance so the hand gun with suppressor was
visible at my side.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">She gasped and sat
down. Tears welled up in her eyes. She covered her face and started
moaning.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I went to the
refrigerator. Pulled out a bottle of water. I then opened a
cupboard and pulled down two glasses.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">When I returned she
was half out of the easy chair she had dropped in, ready to bolt.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I just shook my head
slightly. She looked for the hand gun, but saw the water and
glasses. She relaxed slightly.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I handed her a
glass, juggled the other one and opened the bottle. I then poured
some in my glass. I took it in one gulp and let her watch me. I
filled her glass and handed her the bottle.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">After a few
tentative sips, she asked, “Where's Jake?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Which one is he?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“He's the one I
was supposed to let in by a back door.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“He's resting,
waiting for some associates of mine. They'll escort him to a nice
place and leave him alone.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I was afraid you
killed him. What about me and Billy?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Your boyfriend?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“He's not really.
He said he needed a woman to help him and Jake get some money owed
them. I could have really used the fifty bucks he promised.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Why didn't you
take off? You gave yourself two chances.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“What? You were
watching me?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Not the whole
time. You made a false start which alerted me. Jake would have
tripped up anyway. You just beat him to it and gave me time to
watch, figure out what might happen.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You didn't answer
my question.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“True. Billy is
with the gentlemen next door.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Is one of them's
named Hector? Talks with an accent?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You saw Hector?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“No, but that old
pickup looks like one he drives.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“That's what
tipped your gut, then?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I guess so. He
flirts a lot, but I've never heard a woman say she's actually went
out with him.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Maybe, he's
happily married.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">'Him, married?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Yes.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">She mulled this
over. “What happens to us? We all go together?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“No. Each of you
is going to take a trip. Each will go to a different destination.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Will we see each
other again? I'd really rather not.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I suppose you
could run into each other at some point in the future, but it's
unlikely.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“The folks picking
us up going to kill us and dump us?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You're more
likely to win the lottery than have one of my associates harm you.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“What did we do?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Made some very
poor choices.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: small;">“That's it?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“If I told you,
I'd have to kill you.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">She started to
smile, then stopped. She saw I wasn't smiling. Her gasp was barely
audible.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Don't worry,
we're the good guys, or at least, a majority of the American people
think so.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You're a cop.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Sort of.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">She decided to stop
talking.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">There was a short,
sharp rap at the front door. The woman jumped. I opened the door
slightly.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Jacob Hightower
is in custody and en route to his destination. William Johnson is
being escorted to his transport now. We'll be ready for Cynthia
Bartholomew in ten minutes.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I closed the door.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Will I ever find
out?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">After a pause, I
answered,”Highly unlikely. I can tell you this. Your mistake,
however grave it is, is going to provide you with transportation out
of here far more comfortable than it would be in a couple of months.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“If I try to tell
somebody?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You'll find
yourself among a few million displaced persons with not nearly as an
amazing story as yours. They'll think you're exaggerating. “</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“What do you
mean?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You'll find out
soon.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Another short, sharp
rap at the door.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Good bye
Cynthia.”</span></div>
Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-21084862276837734532015-04-05T17:22:00.000-07:002015-04-05T17:22:57.265-07:00
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Replacements (Part 1)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">by</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">George Brewer</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “This is crazy. There isn't an
insurgent or enemy combatant within 300 klicks of this place,” Slim
sub-vocalized.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Let's keep the chatter to a
minimum,” responded the Lieutenant.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “But Sir, this...”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Can it Slim.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> The subdivision had been cleared two
years before. A year later the government had given up maintaining
the area for the residents return. That was what irked Slim and no
telling how many in the platoon who knew the area. Physically the
houses were intact except for a few where trees had fallen on them.
Yards had been overgrown as would be expected. Some shrubs and
saplings had encroached on the edges</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> The explosion surprised everybody,
except the LT.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Coms, Dexy. We're taking fire.
Copy?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> There was no reply.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Sparks, Dexy Was Coms with the
LT?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Don't know. Sound off, first
squad.,” barked Sparks a little louder because of the adrenalin.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Before Tanker could reply, a second
explosion sounded.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Sparks, Dexy. Come in.” No
reply.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy switched her IFF off. Almost
simultaneously, Slim and over half of the two squads followed suit
without being told. The rest started getting picked off one by one
as Dexy tried to warn them.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Squads, One and Two, IFF off,
now!” putting as much emphasis as possible in her words without
shouting. “Assembly point Alpha, now!” She was now in charge.
The platoon sergeant, Yates, had been transferred unexpectedly.
Sparks had been pulling double duty.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Before she could snake her way back
to higher cover, small arms fire erupted from the direction of
Assembly point Alpha. “Scatter!” erupted from her as she crawled
as fast as she could. Dexy was about to stand, when an explosion
took out the corner of the house and shrub she had been using for
cover. She changed direction and headed for a tree line to her
right. Somebody knew where she had been. Who was out here?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim made a dash for a detached
garage when an explosion took out a sizable oak he had been using.
He had seen the first explosion and had been searching for a possible
launch site, when the second round or whatever it was hit. By then
he grabbed his night vision goggles and had them in place before
heading east to the nearest stand of trees without a house. He
confronted a large open space and stopped to check out a possible
route, when he saw a flash from the ridge to the Southeast. Within
seconds another explosion occurred. It was then he spotted someone
he thought was Dexy running like crazy for the same stand of trees,
a block South of him. Some one should have caught up with him by now
from the West, he thought. He saw a low, decorative brick wall
across the street behind him. He would have to back track a little
but it was doable.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy stopped at the last house on the
street she had been following. She was going to have to sprint
across it to make the tree line. She backed up to gauge how long it
would take her to reach full speed before clearing the safety of the
house. She took a couple of deep breaths and started her sprint.
She hadn't gone more than two meters when a round hit the curb she
had just cleared. The next gouged the asphalt behind a heel. The
third was low and hit the ground between her legs. A fourth round
hit a tree on her right just as she hit the ground. She crawled as
quickly as possible to her left veering away from the small arms fire
coming in her direction. She paused to get her goggles on and
started sweeping the area before moving again.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim heard the rifle shots after he
cleared the brick wall. He paused and counted the timing. Whoever
it was was close enough to see a target, but far enough away to be
off in leading that target. Why single shot? He came to the last
house with a road between him and the trees. The same road Dexy had
likely tried to cross. He wouldn't bother to look for a body. The
time it would take could mean the difference between a hit or a
miss. Slim gave himself a mental slap to the face as he turned to
back up. To the North the road curved to his left then straightened.
A small building on the other side would give him better cover to
the trees. Unless somebody was advancing in a vehicle he couldn't
hear, the angle was narrower for a shooter from the South. He
quickly jogged to another house further North, turned in the
direction of the little building, and sprinted across the road. Two
shots chewed up the asphalt behind him. Now the shooter had two
soldiers to hunt for hopefully.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy came to the base of the ridge
and stopped. She took a drink of water. Looking toward the 400
meter summit to her right. It was the likely location of whoever was
firing on them. She then did a slow 180 and listened for any further
fire from Assembly Point Alpha. She froze, then slowly lowered
herself to the ground. Someone was approaching from the North. She
did her best to flatten herself. She tried to slow her breathing.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Dexy,” a voice whispered.
“Dexy. It's Slim.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “The Yankees suck,” she
responded.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Boston fields wimps,” Slim
answered. It was their personal sign/countersign. Not officially
approved.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy rose as Slim approached. He
still had his goggles on. He took them off as he knelt down next to
Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Good to see you.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Good to see you, too, Slim.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “So what was that we just
experienced?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You got me. You're the one who
said there wasn't an insurgent within 300 klicks of here.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I don't think this was
insurgents,” said Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “How's that?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You're the squad leader, probably
the acting platoon sergeant, stroke, platoon leader.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, but you have the counter
insurgency experience. We better start moving back toward the gap
and home.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Both rose. Dexy took point. It was
going to take awhile. They were going to be heading Northeast
traversing the ridge. Slim would be trying to keep an eye on their
“six” while climbing the grade and keep from bumping into trees
or losing his footing and rolling down the slope.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim just happened to be looking
forward when Dexy raised her hand. They both slowly dropped and
moved to the nearest cover. Somebody was moving slowly to Dexy's ten
o'clock. They were trying to move quietly, but not quite succeeding.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Halt. Who goes there?” Dexy
whispered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Momma told me not to come,” was
the reply.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “It's 'Never been to Spain',
Chewy,” Dexy said, as she shook her head.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Well, I'm not the one whose
great-grandma was a hippy,” Chewy whispered back.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Need a break?” asked Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “No, not really.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy and Slim rose. Dexy took point,
with Chewy in the middle and Slim taking up rear guard. They hadn't
gone more than a half-dozen steps when Slim made an attempt at an owl
call. Both Dexy and Chewy stopped and turned around to see Slim
pointing beyond the spot they had met up. There was movement. Slim
and Chewy turned to Dexy. She pointed to her right ear. Then she
pointed to Slim, made a fist and then lowered her open hand. Next
she pointed to Chewy then swept her arm down and to the right.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> While Dexy had been signaling to
Chewy, Slim had found some exposed rock to hide behind and made
himself as comfortable as possible. Chewy had moved down slope about
six meters from his original position. Dexy had the farthest to go.
They were staggered down and away in a sort of echelon right from the
approaching unknown. Each of them caught a glimpse of a person
slowly advancing, then stopping to look down, then out, then scanning
the area immediately in front. It would change direction slightly
and advance, then stop. It would repeat this two more times.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim guessed it was male, about 190
cm. Roughly the same height as Chewy. Couldn't guess build but
close to Chewy. For some reason he was able to see it's trigger
finger move to the trigger. He was able to get out, “Hot!”, as
the unknown raised its weapon and fired. It was probing. It seemed
to know they were there. It didn't seem to care about cover. It
moved to its left and started pounding Dexy's position. Slim opened
up and thought he had hit the unknown. It moved farther to it's left
but still moving forward toward Dexy, keeping her pinned down.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Chewy!” Dexy shouted.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> For some reason Chewy wasn't firing.
Slim jumped up after the unknown passed his position down slope.
Slim tried to keep from running into the other two's field of fire.
He seemed to be the only one able to get a clear sight line. He
caught Chewy out of the corner of his right eye moving toward Dexy.
Slim thought, screw this, and started converging on the unknown's
back. He hit it three times and it did not slow down. Finally, he
swept the unknowns legs. Chewy was able to hit it as it fell from
his new position. They all converged on the unknown. Standing
around it, trying to catch their collective breaths, each focused on
different parts of this soldier.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I hit him at least three times,
maybe five, in the body, and it didn't seem to phase him. He's got
to have some kind of new body armor,”said Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I'm sorry guys. He seemed to know
where I was. He was using the trees against me,” said Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I thought I was dead,” sighed
Dexy. “It was like he knew I was the squad leader, and was going
for the command element.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> The unknown soldier was dressed
exactly as they were, but was carrying less for the field.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Look at his weapon. I've never
seen anything like it,” said Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Me neither,” replied Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy said, “It looks like a
prototype.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> All three jumped back as the unknown
started to stir.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy fired into its chest.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Stunned, the three cautiously closed
back around the unknown.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Something is terribly wrong here,”
said Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “If's there's more like him around,
we are in real trouble,” exclaimed Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Let's roll him. See if there is
something to identify him,” commanded Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim and Chewy muscled the body
around trying to find something, anything, that would give them a
clue.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “All he has is some spare
magazines. No tapes,” explained Chewy. “He has some kind of
display. Like a GPS. Hey, move back, Dexy. Let me see... Whoa!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Keep it down,” hissed Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I was able to see you on the
screen, like low-light or infrared.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We need to get out of here,”
said Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Hey, here's a comm unit,” said
Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Grab it. Let's go,” replied
Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> As Chewy cleared the body, the
unknown started groaning. This time Dexy pulled her knife and
slashed its throat. She jumped back quickly to avoid getting hit by
arterial blood pulsing from the right carotid. Slim had seen what
she was going to do and had cleared the left side.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Let's get out of here.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They resumed their march up the
slope. For some unknown reason that was the only unknown they
encountered. They stopped a few meters from the crest. They rested,
ate an energy bar .and then proceeded to scout the western side of
the ridge looking for an area open enough to look down on the
subdivision to see if there was any movement or sign of life without
giving away their position. It was fruitless. They then checked to
see if there was any sign of life to the South where they believed
the fire came from. They could see dim flashes of red. Somebody
didn't want to destroy their night vision. They crossed over the
ridge and saw more flashes. They advanced toward the flashes. There
was a glow lower down. Somebody had a tent with the sides up. A
shadow would move from left to right or vice versa. Not really a
shadow, just a body blocking the light shining down from somewhere
near the peak of the tent.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Based on the number of red lights,
they backed off and found a spot to rest before trying to make it
back to their post.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Chewy, see if you can fire up that
comm unit,” asked Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy grabbed what he thought was the
wire for the unknown's headset and found bare wires instead of a
connector. He rolled up the cable and handed it to Slim. Slim
looked around for a place to cover or bury the wiring. Meanwhile
Chewy pulled the connector from his comm. He then removed his mikes
from his throat, and then plugged the connector into the unknown's
unit.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> He immediately heard a low voice
calling,”Zero-three-five. This is command. Come in. I repeat,
zero-three-five, come in.” There was a pause. “Zero-three-two.
This is command. Come in.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Command, this is zero-three-two,
over.”<br /> “Zero-three-two, command. What is your status?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Command, zero-three-two.
Confirmed kill, leader, second platoon, bravo company. Unable to
find comm. Proceeded to first squad location. Confirmed kill, squad
leader and two others. Linked up with zero-three-one. Confirmed
kill, five at assembly point. Two others missing. Over.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Zero-three-two, command. Direct
one, three and seven to grid hotel. Proceed sweep to assembly.
Direct four, six and nine to grid kilo. Sweep. Over.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Command, zero-three-two. Copy.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Command out.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy turned the unit off and
unplugged.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Okay, what's up?” asked Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “They were trying to raise a call
sign, zero-three-five. He didn't respond. Maybe our guy. They
talked to a call sign zero-three-two, gave a bunch of orders. They
got the LT. Couldn't find comms. Killed two in place, and five at
the assembly point,” related Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Three missing from first squad,”
said Dexy. “I wonder why no questions about second squad. She
paused. “Guess zero-three-five was supposed to provide that
information.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy added, “They've got six
assembling on the State highway and sweeping North to find the
missing.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim chimed in, “That means at
least six still alive. Hopefully, more. What kind of report are we
going to give?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Let's worry about getting back to
post first,” answered Dexy. “Keep monitoring their command
channel, Chewy. If you switch around to find the tactical channels
the clicks may tip them off they're being monitored.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They kept to the East side of the
ridge for about thirty minutes, then crossed over to peek at the
assembly point. The APCs were parked as they had left them. LT
hadn't bothered to a post a guard. In spite of the comment to Slim,
he was the most vocal about some desk jockey messing with them on the
ride over. There was a guard now. Probably some “zero-three
something”. They moved on toward a gap in the ridge with a county
road passing through. It had been their way into the subdivision.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They hadn't gone far when Chewy
grabbed the mikes in each hand. He hissed at Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What?” She stopped.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy got as close as he could to her
left ear, and whispered, “They found comms, or what was left of
him. Took a direct hit.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Another ten minutes and they slowed
down. Time to check the gap. A vehicle was parked not far from the
East side of the gap. Dexy made a “cut” sign to Chewy. He
complied. They conferred on the best route to avoid detection.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What do ya think?” she asked.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim responded,”There's a sink
down there between the roads on the East side of the ridge. It fills
with rain water in the winter, then evaporates. Not a real pleasant
trip on foot, even in August.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “How'd you know that?” asked
Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I didn't live in New York my
entire life. Went to high school about forty klicks from here.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Was the post here then?” queried
Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “They just started building it
before I graduated.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Well, which way then? I don't
want to be rustling a map right now,” said Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim replied, “Best work our way
down the West side. Remember, the road has a sweeping “S” curve
before the back entrance to the subdivision.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Provided they don't have a guard
posted,” interjected Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Let's find a quiet way down,”
said Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They retraced their path for about
twenty meters, then started down at an angle. They then proceeded to
switchback every thirty or forty meters until they reached level
ground or what passed for level. They then approached the road.
Slim crawled to the ditch on the right-of-way. Thankfully, it was
dry. He inched up near the shoulder looking right then left. There
was a rise in the road which hid the vehicle guarding the other side
of the gap. He didn't remember that on the ride over. He backed
away. He gave Dexy a thumbs up.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They moved to what they estimated was
the middle of the “S”. Looking back to the Southwest, Dexy
couldn't see the assembly area. She motioned for them to cross.
They didn't sprint, but they didn't march. Made Slim think of the
adjutant marching to make her/his report on the formation to the
commander. When they were safely on the other side, Chewy signaled
to Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “They found zero-three-five. If
you hadn't slit his throat, he would have survived. He bled out
before he could recover. They said his wounds were all ready
starting to heal, when you cut him.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy and Slim just stared at Chewy
with their mouths open. Dexy was the first to recover.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “That's insane,” she gasped.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “There are five of us unaccounted
for. They are heading for the assembly point to take the APCs back
to post.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Anybody still looking for us?”
asked Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Don't know. The two-guy could be
on our trail. Based on the orders, everybody else is to head out.
But their command didn't exactly tell the two-guy to do the same.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Then we proceed as if we're being
tracked,” said Dexy. “Stay with it until the unit starts to
break up, and then switch channels to see if somebody's on tactical.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They got away from the road and
started back toward the continuation of the ridge. They found a
level spot close to the base of the ridge with cover and concealment.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Dexy,” said Chewy, “I'm
getting just command transmissions now.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What are they saying?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Talking to a guy, call sign
zero-two-two. Squads walked into an ambush. All killed. Bodies
accounted for. Five were naked. Direct perimeter defense to fire on
sight if approached. Special unit chanced on the fire fight.
Cleared area for mortuary team. Send at 0600.” He paused.
“Talking to the zero-three bunch. Prepare to return to post at
daylight. Do not engage unless fired upon.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I guess they think we're not worth
any more effort,” tendered Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Gotta figure out a way to contact
the company commander,” said Dexy. “He's the only one to vouch
for us.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They rested before trekking up the
ridge.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They all heard the crack of a limb at
the same time. Then they heard a baritone voice singing as low as
Hoss could, though Dexy knew the melody wasn't quite right.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Sweet home Alabama. Where the
skies are so blue.”<br /> “Sweet Home Alabama. Lord, I'm coming
home to you,” responded Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Took about twenty seconds for Hoss to
make the clearing. “Tinker is behind me. He doesn't trust your
use of old time music, Dexy.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy spoke a little louder, “Tinker,
halt who goes there?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Me, Tinker. And no, I don't
remember what you gave me for a sign.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Right now it doesn't matter, cause
we knew there were two more out here.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “How's that?” asked Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy related the events as they had
happened with Slim and Chewy chiming in. When she got to the part
about the fire fight with the unknown, Hoss, interrupted.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You say you hit the guy and he
didn't go down until you hit him in the legs?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “That's right.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Man, I would have thought the hit
from SAW in the chest would have blown it apart.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy interjected, “Even after that
the guy grabbed my leg.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy interrupted, “The guy didn't
grab your leg!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Who's telling this part?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Don't listen to him, Hoss,”
replied Dexy. “The guy groaned and I slit his throat.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “And a good thing, too,” added
Chewy. “We heard the guy who found him say he was healing from
previous hits.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Man, this is like science
fiction,” Tinker spoke for the second time.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy finished their part of the
narrative.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Hoss waited looked at the others and
started in. “I was covering for Tinker. He was making like a
bear.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Tinker hung his head.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “First time getting caught with
your pants down saving your life,” cracked Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Don't I know it,” answered
Tinker weakly.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Anyway, that first round got our
attention. Then Sparks going off line, we knew we were in trouble.
I hit the IFF button.” Hoss paused and looked at Tinker. He just
nodded his head. “We just hauled it toward the APCs. Since we had
the farthest to go, probably saved us. We heard the shots from that
direction and headed West toward the creek on that side of the
subdivision.” Hoss paused again.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Tinker picked up the narrative, “We
found a place to cross over without leaving tracks and started North.
At some point I looked back toward the ridge, since that seemed to
be where things were coming from. Stopped Hoss and asked him if he
saw red lights on the top.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Hoss just nodded his head.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Tinker continued, “We probably
wouldn't have seen them in the subdivision, and then we were too busy
to notice. On the other side of the creek our sight angle was
better.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy spoke, “That was probably the
command post.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, when you mentioned a tent on
the back side. Anyway, there's a rise with exposed rock near the
road on that side. We rounded it and made for the rocks. We rested
then started poking around for a place to look over the subdivision.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Hoss continued while Tinker took a
swig of water. “Had a really good view. The scrub that was
growing around the rocks allowed us to sit back and avoid a possible
reflection off the lens of our binoculars. I don't know how long it
was, but saw a guy coming from the South stop about half way in. He
stayed there and then two others walked over from the East. They
were all about the same height. Seemed to be the same build. Kind
of a cross between Chewy and me.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, just realized it about our contact, when you
said it,” said Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “They weren't together more than a
couple of minutes then split up. The guy on our side continued his
sweep of his area. Kept looking at his wrist like you said, then
scanning his field. We watched him head for the APCs. There was a
bit of a break and we could see others occasionally. We shifted
position North and still had good cover. Seemed they were just
waiting for orders. Milling around we couldn't get a head count.
Estimated squad strength.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Tinker took over, “As you can guess
we spent a lot of time on the back side of the rise, considering the
amount of time you spent climbing and all.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy snorted.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We finally decided to get across
the county road and listen for the APCs to leave, if that's what they
decided to do. Didn't make sense to just leave them out here. Our
timing couldn't have been better. There's a second rise the road
cuts through. We had just settled down to check out the road and the
area around the APC's, when three bodies hustled across it.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You saw us?” exclaimed Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Thankfully it was us and not them.
We figured we had stumbled on the only place to see that part of the
road considering all the trees.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “That's amazing!” whispered Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Anyway, based on the difference in
heights, we figured it was you, Dexy, and Chewy. Slim, you run
funny, so it wasn't hard to figure it out.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I don't run funny,” replied
Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yes, you do,” said Dexy and
Chewy almost simultaneously.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim harrumphed.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Everybody else laughed.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Hoss spoke, “We crossed the road
and kept to the back side of the second ridge until we found the
creek again. After we forded, we found a game trail. That crossed a
hiking trail. Which allowed us to make good time to get to this part
of the ridge. We guessed you'd stop near the base to rest and decide
what to do next.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “And if we weren't here?” asked
Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We would take a break, head over
the ridge, then head for the post,” replied Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Good thing we stopped,” said
Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Don't you know it,” sighed Hoss.
“When we got close to the ridge, I started singing and here we
are.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> As if to punctuate those last
remarks, the APCs were firing up readying to move out.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Would be nice to ride home,”
said Tinker.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Would be nice to get to the post
alive,” said Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “How we going to make it if they
think we're bad guys wearing friendly uniforms?” asked Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We need to contact the Captain,”
replied Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Man, am I an idiot,” said Hoss.
“I've got the expansion pack.” Hoss rummaged in his pack and
handed it to Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Why weren't you close to Sparks?”
asked Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Who knows. He sent me and Tinker
out to the right flank and had the Guppy move in,” said Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Maybe he thought you three could
“wheel” around for a pincer or back if Bravo One needed to fall
back,” speculated Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They could hear the APCs engines rev
up and start shifting for the trip back to the post. They just sat
there quietly until the last echo from the gap.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Let's give it some time before we
head up to the top for maximum range of my radio, and hope the
Captain has the company comms up for the morning check.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “This is some crazy stuff,” said
Tinker.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We didn't get a decent briefing.
We got a cursory view of the terrain immediately in and around the
subdivision. It was a setup from start to finish,” Dexy said in
exasperation.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “But what for?” queried Slim. “A
group of insurgents has infiltrated this close to a major post, this
far from the front lines?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You say they were equipped like us
but their weapons were different?” asked Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, like prototypes, and then
those scanner whatchamacallits,” said Chewy. “The one Dexy put
down moved in such a way I couldn't get a clear line of fire. The
guy seemed to know where each of us was.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You know we could have been wiped
out here. We've been sitting in a group with no guard,” said Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You're the squad leader, Dexy,”
answered Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Nobody bothered to move.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy finally got to her feet. “Hoss,
you're behind me. Chewy, in the middle. Tinker you're next.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> She started up the ridge at an angle
for a traverse. They spaced themselves and swivalled their heads
around properly, as if the previous lapse hadn't happened. They came
upon the hiking trail Hoss had Tinker had used on the flat. Dexy
turned back toward Hoss and just shook her head. Hoss just shrugged.
She pressed on.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They crossed over the top and looked
for a relative clear area for line-of-sight although it was not
absolutely necessary for the comm unit, even with the expansion pack
connected. Everybody maintained spacing. Only Dexy and Hoss
huddled.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Red River, this is Bravo Two. Red
River, this is Bravo Two, how copy”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> No reply.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy repeated, ”Red River, this is
Bravo Two. How copy?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> After a lengthy pause, “Bravo Two,
this is Red River. Copy five by five. Authenticate.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Red River, this is Bravo Two.
One-niner-echo-foxtrot. I repeat, one-niner-echo-foxtrot.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Instead of silence, a mike was keyed
open. “They must of got that off Dexy. Play along so we can
figure out where they are,” said a voice in the background.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Okay, but we got
one-two-charlie-whisky-zulu,” said the voice of Red River.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What kind of authentication is
that?” asked the voice in the background.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Sorry, old unit. My mistake,”
replied the voice of Red River.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Bravo Two, this is Red River. Say
again authentication.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> There was no response. Dexy had shut
down.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What's up?” asked Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You got full backup for comm?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Never leave home without it.
What's up?” repeated Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We're going old school.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Pull out the long-wire antenna,”
ordered Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yes, ma'am. But my code is
rusty,” responded Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Mine isn't,” said Dexy. “Let's
find some suitable trees and run it.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Tinker and Slim helped them run the
antenna wire, while Chewy kept guard. With the antenna strung, Hoss
pulled a modified key out of his pack and handed it to Dexy. She
connected it to the expansion pack. They were all set.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What you waiting for?” asked
Tinker.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Top of the hour,” replied Dexy.
“Something is wrong at the post. Sergeant Rice gave me the code
for a Morse transmission. Hardly anybody uses it anymore. We either
start at the top of the hour or bottom of the hour.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Oh,” was Tinker's response.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Before the top of the hour, Dexy
fired up her radio. She kept her left wrist turned enough to see her
watch while gripping one side of a block the code key was attached
to. Hoss had both hands steadying the block as well. Everybody else
could tell it was time by the shift in Dexy's wrist and her right
thumb and index finger moving back and forth. It didn't last long.
Then tones started coming from Dexy's radio. These didn't last very
long either.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Hoss spoke first, “Not good.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What?” asked Tinker.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Everybody's confined to post,”
said Dexy. “Rice will contact us in thirty-five minutes.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What about the top of the hour,
bottom of the hour thing?” asked Tinker.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “That's for initial contact or when
a specified time for transmissions hasn't been established,”
replied Dexy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What are we going to do about
food?” asked Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Don't know unless we kill
something,” replied Dexy. “At least we have water close by.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Wild life should be around here
since the subdivision has been empty for so long,” said Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Tinker spoke up, “Hey, wasn't there
supposed to be a mortuary team come out? We should have heard the
vehicles.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You're right,” said Dexy. “Slim
keep your radio on. If you hear three clicks a second apart that
means somebody's coming. Chewy, Tinker go with him to the assembly
point. Grab energy bars and canteens first to bring back. Check to
see if anybody had the bright idea to bring water purification tabs.
Then, start grabbing weapons and ammo. Hide them in case we need
them. Come back by way of the creek for water. If necessary, and
the lock down lasts a while, we can check the rest later.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What about burying them
ourselves?” asked Chewy.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “As much as I hate the thought,
it's probably best we leave the bodies. No telling how long it would
take us to bury seventeen bodies without trenching tools. This was
supposed to be a down and dirty mission. No field gear to speak of.
No food. No ammo other than what we came with. Everything was based
on a small number of hostiles. Why were two squads sent out instead
of all four?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We're the only company with two
platoons of four squads each,” interjected Slim. “We better get
moving.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim, Chewy and Tinker headed for the
ridge top.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dexy called out, “Check for radio
batteries that haven't gone dead.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim raised his right arm in
acknowledgement.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What do you think?” asked Hoss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I hope somebody figures this out
quick so we can get back to the post.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Slim and company made it quicker down
the slope as they had spent some time checking the road, the
continuation of the ridge on the other side of the county road, and
then the subdivision. They crossed the road West of the small rise
that had blocked the view from the East side of the gap and the curve
farther West. They then entered a line of trees and shrubs that
separated the county road from the access road that ran from South
entrance of subdivision North then curved West toward the creek.
About midway along the northern section of the access road, they
crossed over to a small grove of trees where the APCs had been
parked.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> They got a better picture of the
place as they had arrived just after sundown the day before. They
spread out even further and began moving South. Chewy hadn't even
entered the grove itself when he noticed some rubble. Looked like a
possible fire pit or barbecue. He side stepped it and headed in.
Slim and Tinker skirted the edges. Tinker found the first body. He
didn't recognize it. He thought for a moment then set out at a run
to find Slim.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> He didn't see Chewy as he raced past
him. Tinker found Slim kneeling down beside a body. Slim had looked
up a the sound of Tinker's boots.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We got company?” Slim asked.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “No.” answered Tinker. “I
thought we should swap since I don't know everybody in second squad.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Tink, I'm sure if things were
different the families would appreciate your concern, but we don't
have much time. Hoss has been with the company the longest, knows
just about everybody. Dexy probably knows the entire roster by full
name, rank and serial number, not just nicknames.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Oh. Okay. Is that Guppy?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah. Could of been squad leader
a long time ago. Sparks was going for OCS...” Slim realized he was
wasting time. “Back to scavenging, quick, Tink”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Copy.” With that Tinker hustled
back. As he passed, Chewy, he said, “Messed up. Gotta hurry.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chewy watched Tinker for about five
seconds and wondered what the guy had done. He then saw a body to
his right and headed toward it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">(To be continued...) </span></div>
Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-76367171125499212412014-11-11T17:55:00.000-08:002014-11-11T17:55:24.443-08:00<div style="text-align: center;">
Plasticity, part 2</div>
<br />
We are at a lower limit when we reach Planck time and the Planck length. What if there is Planck dynamics of space? It is my contention the disconnect between the physics of the large and the physics of the small is of our conception of space. There is no difference in space itself. There is a difference in masses. The result then is a difference in the interactions of the differing masses with space. We then need to figure out space.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There is a common misconception if the velocity of light. Everybody throws around the equation, E = mc<sup>2 </sup>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
mistakenly thinking that "c" is a fixed quantity universally. When in fact "c" is a mathematical representation of a number: 3, 2<sup>½</sup>, or π. The speed of light in space is one value. The speed of light in a single mode fiber optic cable is slower. To a layman or an engineer the difference is negligible. Now this idea is consistent because of a concept called "local unity". It's what allows Newtonian or classical physics to not be upended by Einstein's theories. How much of the volume of space represents our "local unity" is unknown. Based on our current assumptions and observations it's not local, but universal. But there are problems. We've got a missing mass problem. We've got the associated expansion problem. Things just don't add up. What's a poor bloke to do? The speed of light is not 299,792,458 m/s everywhere.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The folks running the Large Hadron Collider have been trying to track down the Higgs Boson among other particle esoterica. Supposedly, they succeeded, but there are those who are having second thoughts now. Regardless, what if we use Max Planck's last name one more time? What if Planck's constant is in fact a clue to the dynamic interaction of mass and space? In the beginning was "quark soup". Space was the "stock". The really elementary particles coalesced. Simmer and stir occasionally. With plasticity, expansion is not a problem.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
To be continued...</div>
Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-69339659548782391652014-11-09T07:44:00.000-08:002014-11-09T07:44:08.705-08:00<div style="text-align: center;">
Plasticity</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Imagine space as silly putty, but foamy. It's density is so low it stands at the edge of reason. The smallest particle deforms this foam. We may not be able to detect the particle directly, but the deformity represents the "field" of the particle. Sound familiar? The interaction of the particle with space is it's field. This hearkens back to the "aether". Our problem is wrapping our heads around such a low density. The "density" of our brains is part of the problem.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This plasticity exhibits fluidity. Again the problem is density. Classically we think of water or air. What of a non newtonian fluid? Instead of a spoon used in a children's experiment, what about particles of ever increasing mass and density interacting with the space? What is viscosity?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
To be continued...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Thanks to Josh Peck and his book <i>Quantum Creation</i> for getting me to think about this stuff, again.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This journey started back in the early '80s with Nigel Calder's <i>Einstein's Universe</i> and a boat load of subsequent books and articles too numerous to mention.</div>
Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-18310779318927541842014-09-20T06:14:00.000-07:002014-09-20T06:14:26.043-07:00
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A Deaf Ear</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
by</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
George Brewer</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“How was the party?” asked Telma.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Quite good, except Clarinda always
seats me next to potentially interesting persons, then places me to
their left.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She's forgetful,” responded
Telma.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No, she's devious,” he retorted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Now Jorge, she invites you to her
dinner parties.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You're just being kind, You
always see the good, or least potential good in others.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
His remark was met by silence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She must have found a good caterer
for a change. The food was quite delicious. I was torn between
enjoying the meal and the discussion.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Anyone we know?” inquired Telma.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Not anyone that I recall. The
fellow to my right was a fellow by the name of Pegg.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Did you say pig, Darling?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No, Pegg, as in dowel. Two gees.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“One could tell he was from England
by his accent. I couldn't quite catch everything he said in his
normal voice, but when he affected a 'regular bloke' tone, I caught
almost everything.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You should consider having
something done about that, Dear.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It's not vanity, you well know.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes, Dear. Do you recall his
given name?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Now that you ask, I'm having
difficulty recalling.”<br /> “Not to worry, it will come back to
you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Having a snack?” asked Jorge.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I suppose I might.” Telma
entered the kitchen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Here have an eye,” offered
Jorge.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No, Sweetheart, I'd rather have a
finger. Something light. Who was the main course?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“A chap named Romero. He'd aged
well.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'll have to join you more often,
Darling.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After a pause, Jorge spoke tentatively,
“I believe his name was Simon.
</div>
Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-13379866501678950822014-08-07T10:19:00.003-07:002014-08-07T10:19:53.446-07:00
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A Night in the Park</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
by</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
George Brewer</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They called her “the woman”,
never addressing her by name unless she were in their presence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She is falling apart.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I agree.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She is no longer of any
significant use.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You may discharge her at any time
after the Smith contract is completed.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It is done.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The interview had not gone as
planned, at least from the networks perspective. Gary Smith had
answered the questions honestly. The difference was the network had
scripted an ambush. The Holy Spirit led Gary through the verbal
minefield. The show's producer and director would have loved to have
killed the interview siting technical difficulties. They didn't have
anything queued up to replace it and it was late night. No audience,
or so they thought. They had been assured by the
“reporter/interviewer” and her staff that this was going to be a
“slam-dunk”.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Let the Feds grovel at Smith's feet
for the next “word from on high”. Smith had to have inside
information. The Feds were concocting crises to maintain the closest
thing to martial law and Smith was their dupe. The terrorists
threats were a figment of Beltway imaginations and military
delusions. The Islamists were a handy foe since the Soviets folded.
So what if Smith had been the oldest doctoral student of mathematics,
winner of both the Abel and Wolf prizes. They weren't like a Nobel.
This Bible prophecy mumbo-jumbo just made it seem more pathetic. At
least it had not been a call-in like WNN. What a fiasco! They
thought the host was going to have a coronary right there on live
television.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nobody was watching the stage manager
as she slipped to a quiet spot and made a phone call. Cell phones
had a habit of messing with other electronic equipment even if just
sitting idle, let alone ringing, at really bad times.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Elvis has left the building,”
she whispered.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They ambushed him as he exited the
ground floor entrance to the studio complex. They grabbed Smith's
arms and guided him to a waiting limousine, as if it were an everyday
occurrence for the trio. Inside on the rear facing seat sat a woman
dressed for an evening out. His guards would not have stood out
either because of their well fitting suits. Only their size would
have hinted at their true vocation. The limo pulled away from the
curb and entered very light traffic.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Please, Mr. Smith, sit down and
relax. No harm will come to you, unless you attempt to escape before
we reach our destination,” stated the woman as if she were
discussing the weather. With that she picked up a small automatic
hidden by her purse laying on the seat to her left.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You have been most troublesome to
a friend of mine. He would like to have a discussion with you to see
if he might persuade you to see things from his perspective. It will
be most enlightening, and no doubt you will have a change of heart.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I doubt that. My change of heart
took place long ago.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I take you to be a reasonable man,
not influenced by emotion as many of your followers are.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I consider myself reasonable,
however, I don't have any followers,” responded Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I would disagree. You seem to
have an army of fanatics willing to do your bidding.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I would also disagree. Yes, there
are those who parrot by words without understanding. I have
attempted to dissuade mimics, but one can only do so much without
hindering the primary message.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The woman joined the rest of the
occupants in silence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The driver seemed to be in no hurry
as he turned left here or right there. He never exceeded the speed
limit nor rushed through a caution light. It seemed the purpose of
the drive was to burn precious gas, not a drive with an ultimate
destination.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It seemed as if an hour or more had
passed when the guard on Smith's right gave a little shudder, and
cleared his throat as if to speak. The Holy Spirit was moving on
Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Your friend, Mahmoud, is not in
this country, Ms. Hopkins.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The intake of breath by the women was
followed by a whispered expletive and a narrow eyed stare. She laid
the automatic down and removed her jacket. Picking up the automatic,
she seemed to grip it with more intensity than would seem to be
required. The muscles of her exposed arms seemed to relax.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I don't know what you are talking
about,” Hopkins spat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Please, don't insult me or the one
who provided the information to me. I realize you are an unbeliever,
but...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“An atheist.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I was wondering about your pubic
stance on gun control.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Only in the hands of the ignorant
masses, if they would just kill each other.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'm sincerely sorry for your
loss.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It's your kind who killed my
brother, religious fanatics doing God's will.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I take it Mahmoud and his crowd
are somehow different doing Allah's will.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She did not take the bait.
Obviously, one of the occupants was Mahmoud's representative.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ms. Hopkins, only one of you is
going to get out of this alive,” spoke Smith with a touch of
sadness in his voice.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The woman seemed ready to throw
herself at Smith with a vengeance. She settled back in the seat
relaxing her arms once again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I would suggest one of two
options: release me now, turn yourself in to the authorities and live
to see another day, or follow through with your plan, fail, and die
anyway. Sooner than you imagine.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hopkins tensed again, only to relax
again, reluctantly. Things were not going as planned.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith spoke again, “I don't wish to
antagonize you. I'm simply relaying a message given to me. I am, at
this point, talking to Mahmoud via his messenger.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I can see this is a waste of our
friend's time. But, you have some time before the appointment, so
babble away. We'll see if anything of significance is worth passing
along.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith proceeded as if he didn't
notice Hopkin's slip of the tongue. “I am a prophet. I realize to
Mahmoud this is blasphemy. The odd thing is he has twelve prophets
under his nose.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
With this the guard to his left
stirred slightly as if controlling a startle reflex, and then
continuing as shifting his weight. Hopkins simply glared at Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes, Mahmoud has twelve prophets
under his nose. Not within his inner circle. Those are all faithful
lieutenants, but any attempt to flush them out will only cast doubt
on those faithful to Mahmoud. And he shouldn't bother. There are
many more in his country to take their place. Each is a
representative of the twelve sons of Ishmael.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hopkins laughed nervously. “You
are insane.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The guard to Smith's left shifted
again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Mahmoud's plans have failed
repeatedly because God is not on his side. However, one plan may
succeed in the future. It depends on his willingness to sacrifice
someone he dearly loves.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“NO!” blurted out Hopkins.
Before she could say any more, the guard to the left caught her eye.
She closed her mouth. They were definitely losing control.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“If he chooses to sacrifice his
beloved, he'll meet with success, however, short lived. Mahmoud must
understand his days are numbered. He will stand in judgment one day,
as we all will. The choice rests with him.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The limousine pulled onto a boulevard
through one of the city's many parks. Midway through the park, the
limousine suddenly slowed. The driver then pulled to the curb. The
guard on Smith's left glanced at the driver, but said nothing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hopkins screamed at the driver,
“What's wrong?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Another voice, male, from the right
front, repeated, “What's wrong?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The driver simply put the limo in
park and started clutching his chest.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The male voice from the front, “Your
heart? Is it your heart? My God, he's having a heart attack!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Expletives spewed from Hopkins'
mouth. “Where's the backup?” she screamed?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The guard on Smith's left spoke, “It
is following as I said before. If they have been detained, I need
only call.” Little did Hopkins know the second limousine had been
a ruse. It was now sitting in it's garage, more minutely detailed
than ever before, ready for it's next hire the following morning.
Backup was a black sedan that had been tailing the limo, and now
parked waiting for instructions. It only had room for two more
passengers.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith could only wonder why they they
did nothing for the driver. He said a mental prayer on the driver's
behalf. A small glint of reflected light caught his eye. The nearby
street lamp reflected off a pistol in the hand's of the front
passenger.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Were they going to kill the driver
and dump his body, thought Smith? The instant the thought was
complete, a small arms explosion went off in the front seat. Hopkins
and the guard to the right immediately clawed at their ears. The
doors of the limousine popped ajar for no apparent reason. The man
on his left seemed tense, but remained motionless. He and Smith
seemed to be in a bubble, while the other two screamed and writhed,
but didn't attempt to get out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The guard spoke, “The sonic devices
did not work.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith replied, “You mean Hopkins
was going to pull the trigger in this confined space?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It can only mean Allah has spared
your life. Why?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Your name is Said. You work for
Mahmoud. You are the one to deliver the message God gave me to pass
on to your master.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Said started, but remained seated.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith continued, “The cell phone to
be used to trigger the explosives is dead.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Said reached inside his left coat
pocket and brought out a cell phone. He knew without opening it, it
was dead. He opened the flip phone any way pressing the power
button. It was indeed dead.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Don't leave it here. It is a
witness. The lithium-ion paste has been turned into sand and clay.
Everything I said to you before is true. It is time to leave.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Said pushed the door fully open and
waved the backup car forward. Smith followed Said out the door. He
then pushed it out of his way and moved forward toward the driver.
He knelt down in the street beside the driver, held up by the seat
belt and shoulder strap. Smith asked the driver his name.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ibrahim,” whispered the driver.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith spoke softly and quickly, half
in English, half in Arabic, a language he did not know, about Jesus,
Isa.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The black sedan stopped behind the
limo. Said opened the rear passenger door and stepped in. The
occupants were surprised and agitated. The driver spoke first, “What
is wrong with Ibrahim?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The second occupant asked before Said
could respond, “Isn't that the infidel?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Silence!” barked Said. “Ibrahim
is dying. It is not God's will for the infidel to die today.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But what of the woman, the
others?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“They are as good as dead. The one
called Toms shot himself. If I had not seen it myself, I would not
have believed it. The prostitute exposed her arms. I saw the
ligaments of her left forearm tense. She tried three time to pull
the trigger.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But the explosives?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“The trigger device is dead.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But we can still...?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Silence!” Said barked even
louder. In a subdued voice, “Leave.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As the sedan pulled away Ibrahim said
with his dying breath, “Isa is Lord.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith rose from where he had been
kneeling, stepped back from the limo, and watched the retreating
taillights of the other car. He followed it's progress until it
braked, turned and was swallowed up by the city.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith looked around the park. They
were in the heart of it. In better times it would have been alive
with people, even at this late hour, strolling or riding in the
trademark carriages. But, not tonight or for the foreseeable future.
He stretched and started walking in the direction the sedan had
taken. There was an all-night diner across the street from the north
entrance of the park that had been permitted to stay open in spite of
the curfew. If one had the appropriate pass to be out, one could get
a good meal. Smith started singing and praising the Lord.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The failure of the cellphone to
detonate the explosives in the limousine, also failed to trigger an
alarm. Four men had been waiting to delay any emergency response to
the explosion. Their master needed as much evidence burned or
destroyed as possible. This had been a rather hurried action,
atypical of the methodical planning and execution of past forays.
Their responsibility now was to clean up any loose ends.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The tradesman van advertised
emergency plumbing services. It was the genuine article loaned to a
“cousin”, as the owner was “sick”. It was a mutually
beneficial arrangement, although the authorities would have frowned
on the “cousin's” activities. The van and its occupants pulled
up behind the limo. Two men in the back jumped out the side door and
called out as if asking if anyone needed help.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Anyone there?” the first man
called out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Need help?” the second shouted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The first man approached from the
left; the second from the right. Had it been daylight, an observer
would have noticed the similarity of these two approaching the limo
like two police officer's performing a traffic stop. The first
touched the left rear fender. The men looked at each other and
nodded. The first pulled out a flashlight and started sweeping the
interior. The second stepped forward producing a semi-automatic
pistol with a silencer attached. He tracked his partner to avoid
shooting him. The sweeping flashlight found the guard in the right
rear seat slumped over, seemingly asleep. The first man motioned for
his partner to stand ready, pointing to the location of the guard in
the rear. He then stepped forward to the still open driver's door.
He froze at the sound of weak whimpering. He glanced at the man in
back. There was no movement. He motioned his partner forward and
stepped back. The rear door was slightly open. He should have
noticed it. He slowly opened it and saw the woman curled up in an
impossibly tight ball, shivering on the floor board. This could not
be the woman he was told about. He quietly closed the door as it was
and quickly moved to the driver.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
He was startled by the hint of a
smile, a look of peace, on Ibrahim's face. He checked for a pulse.
There was none. He gave a shudder. Ibrahim was a hardened soldier
working under Said, therefore under Mahmoud. He turned the
flashlight toward the passenger side. Toms was sprawled with his
head at an odd angle. The beam played over Toms head. The man had
smelled blood, but not thought anything of it. Now he could see the
telltale signs of blood and brain matter on the headliner.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
He waved his partner off and signaled
for someone in the van as if directing traffic. A third man jumped
out of the van and quickly headed toward the the limo. The first man
reached in and popped the trunk lid. The third man produced a meter
from a bag he carried and proceeded to check out the contents of the
trunk more like a mechanic than an electrician. He pulled a
cellphone out and waved it at the first man. He placed it back in
the trunk. He busied himself as if cleaning up, then closed the
trunk. As he turned around, the first man signaled the second, and
all three headed back to the van. Once in the van they discussed the
best exit strategy as their original delaying tactic was no longer
required. The driver made a U-turn and headed back the way they
came.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The first man dropped out of the
discussion of what had happened. He knew more of the details, but
did not need to share them with the others. The woman had been a
last minute addition to actually perform the execution of the
infidel, Smith, then conveniently die herself. Toms was not supposed
to be there at all. The man in the back, likely an additional guard,
was simply collateral damage. Ibrahim was supposed to be with Said.
Instead, it was likely Said had taken the infidel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
No one had noticed Smith in the
distance walking away from the limousine.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the meantime, Smith had made good
time in reaching the diner. Once inside, he asked to use a phone and
made a call for a ride. As he waited over coffee and a piece of
apple pie, an explosion worthy of the best Hollywood could produce in
sight and sound occurred. A patron standing near the door was so
startled, he fell backwards. It was if he had been knocked over by
the pressure wave which nudged the door open and rattled the windows.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The cook had rushed out of the
kitchen to see what the commotion was. Everyone else was sitting or
standing in stunned silence. He rushed to the patron on the floor
asking if he was all right. The patron assured the cook he was
physically fine just bowled over. The cook helped the man up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Has anyone called 9-1-1?” the cook
asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A customer sitting at the end of the
counter near the door roused out of her trance, produced a cell phone
from her purse and began dialing. The cook turned and asked if
everybody else was okay? There was a smattering of responses and
nods. The quiet that prevailed minutes before was now replaced by
chatter. Smith sat and stared at the fire of the burning limousine
and a few trees close to it. If the Lord had not intervened he would
likely have been in the limo, all ready dead from a bullet or burned
alive.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“To be absent from the body is to
be present with the Lord,” he thought.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As the cook started back to the
kitchen, a look of recognition came over his face. He stopped beside
Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You're Gary Smith,”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes, I am.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You have been on my mind since
your interview earlier tonight.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You were watching?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah, anytime I can enjoy the
tables turned on those media jerks.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You think they're all jerks?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No, not really. Misguided,
misinformed. Lord knows. It's hard to be charitable to some of
them.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Do you know Christ as your
personal savior?” asked Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes, I do, brother. I'm new to
this Christian walk, although my momma would be proud to know I'm a
believer now.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'm sure she knows.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I think so, too.” added the
cook.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You said you were watching the
interview tonight.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Never miss a chance to see or
listen to whatever God has placed on your heart.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Why's that? I'm just a human
being.” stated Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I know. But, some times I hear
this quiet voice speak to me. Like my momma did when I was sick or
before I went to sleep when I was a kid.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That's the Holy Spirit,” replied
Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That's what I was thinking.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Bearing witness.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It's not just that. When you talk
and quote scripture, I look it up. When you say something that can't
be found in the Bible, you say so. You say you're just one of many
prophets, but you don't call those who call you a liar, a liar back.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What's your name brother?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Chuck Jones.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith stood up and shook hands. “May
God bless and keep you safe.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'm praying for you, Brother
Gary.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'll be praying for you too,
Brother Chuck.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They both turned toward the front as
a man in a dark gray overcoat stepped through the door.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Here's my ride.” With that
Smith nodded to Jones and walked to the door. Smith turned before
closing the door. Jones smiled and raised his hand in goodbye.
Smith nodded again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smith and the new man stood outside
the diner for a moment looking at the flashing lights of fire and
emergency vehicles in the distance.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ready for a debrief?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What about the local cops, Tony?”
asked Smith.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Although, you're a material
witness and the likely target, we'll pass the information on when
necessary. We'll get a call when they realize this is terrorists,
not a local mob hit.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Special Agent Antony Cordoba, FBI,
stepped to the passenger door of his sedan and opened it for Smith.
The car didn't look like government issue or GSA procured.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Once both were inside, Tony asked,
“Want to pray first?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Why's that?” smile Gary.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I've learned God has His hand on
you, and I want to get in the habit of having His hand on me, too.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You expecting trouble?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Like what happened here? Maybe.
It's more like having the assurance I'll walk away, if it's God's
will. Having His peace when it's my time.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Well said, Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Each prayed before Tony started the
car and drove off in the dawning of a new day.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The young woman at the end of the
counter had not seen “Elvis” enter the diner. It had taken
awhile to settle her nerves after making the cell call in the studio
to be able to eat. She had been about to leave when the explosion
happened. It had unsettled her. Had she been a part of that, she
wondered? Then, seeing “Elvis” leave with the other man really
shocked her. Would someone be looking for her? Toms, the police or
worse? She waited for the sedan Smith had gotten into to leave. She
hurriedly paid for her meal, and tried her best to leave on legs that
might give out at any moment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“The contract was not completed.”<br />
“What?” The rage was almost palpable through the phone. Said
remained silent, until Mahmoud had regained his composure.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It was necessary to discharge a
number of the contract employees because of the failure. I will
provide a full report when I return.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“It is critical that we conclude
the Smith contract.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes, I agree, but it would be wise
to wait for my report before entering negotiations again.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What?” the anger flared again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Said gritted his teeth and waited for
Mahmoud to calm down. In a low voice, “As the on-scene
representative of this company, I strongly suggest my council be
heard in person.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mahmoud did not hear this side of
Said often, but it gave him pause. Said was his faithful adviser;
the older and wiser brother he never had. “I await your return.”</div>
Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-76873887838396364842012-08-17T10:19:00.002-07:002012-08-17T10:19:55.136-07:00Do the MathOne big shortcoming in the teaching of Evolution is the math. Evolution is probablistic in nature. To really grasp the need for large amounts of time, even though time is relativistic in nature, a student needs the rudiments of probability and statistics to truly understand the building of the human genome.<br />
One side bar item shows the lack of understanding, is abortion. To put it simply:<br />
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ABORTION = EXTINCTION<br />
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at least for one species.Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-30750463384706290382012-08-08T09:30:00.001-07:002012-08-08T09:43:47.380-07:00Who's the Nanny? I visit a well known web site because of its links to news summaries. The web site itself is not a problem. Some of the sites it links to have been known problems. You move in, check the headlines or summary, then back out.<br />
I lambasted Google for playing Nanny. Seems it was a company Stop Bad Software. At least I was able to get to the web site, and also let Stop Bad Software their opinion of the site was erroneous, or was it censorship? No matter.<br />
Google. My sincere apologies.<br />
Vint Cerf. Do you really want your name and picture associated with Stop Bad Software?<br />
I want to stop bad software, oh how I want to. I have a Windows system with about a half dozen roots kits on it. Placed there by some folks from overseas, who had the temerity to spoof a company in Portland, then call me to offer their assistance in removing their product from my system.<br />
The price we pay for an "open" system.Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-64957929462294094112012-07-31T11:14:00.000-07:002012-07-31T11:14:03.669-07:00Diverse InterprtationsIt strikes me as odd and sad at the same time, my fellow human beings can't seem to agree on much of anything of import. For example, I am considered by some to be a pagan because I believe the Creator of the Universe has breath and speaks. Are not the words of my mouth the offspring of my mind? I use my breath to speak those words to announce my thoughts to others.<br />
For those who don't believe in a Creator, fine. You're just an accident. To use a common word from 15th and 16th century English, that's what vulgar means, "Shit happens".<br />
Oh, that's what we're made of, dirt! Same stuff as the stars.Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-88435347161051153962012-06-21T12:55:00.000-07:002012-06-21T12:55:37.333-07:00Obscenely Colossal Telescope Project Revealed<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">FLASH! NEWS UPDATE</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The existence of the Obscenely Colossal Telescope, formerly the Super Secret Obscenely Colossal Telescope, was exposed by Stephen Craft, contributor to Sky and Telescope online, in his NEWS by Stephen Craft post of 20 June 2012. The main thrust of his article was regarding the useful discoveries of smaller scopes for astronomers. In particular, the Kilodegree Extremely Little Telescope, KELT. Not to be confused with the CELT or EBSLT. He did in fact insert a disclaimer “one of these might be made up” when referring to the behemoths of telescopedom, i.e. the recently approved E-ELT, the VLT, and the Giant Magellan Telescope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Whether this was an intentional leak or simply an attempt to puncture the extremely dense shroud of secrecy around the OCT, formerly the SSOCT, remains to be determined. This reporter had previously signed a non-disclosure agreement with backers of the OCT, formerly the SSOCT, and am now released from that contractual agreement to give you, the general reading audience the skinny, the real deal, the inside dope... Never mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Dr. M.A.C. DeRoyal, with too many initials tagged on his name, confided to this reporter over a few too many stouts the plans for said telescope in 1987. Over the intervening years, he has passed on snippets of information regarding the various trials, tribulations and milestones of the Committee to Build the OCT, formerly the Committee to Build the SSOCT, of which he was chair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The brain child of Dr. R.E.M. Mills, University of Haltwhistle, was intended to put the university back on the map, as it were, of Big Astronomy. A chance meeting with DeRoyal at a local pub led to a sketch of said telescope envisioned by Mills, a table of organisation by DeRoyal, and a plan to get funding for the project. This was all recorded on a barmaid's apron, which they were able to keep after the row created over the procurement of said apron and a night in gaol.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">We pause now, so as not to spill the entire contents of the can of beans. We hope you will return having been enticed by this teaser.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">By Ferd Whittleton, Stupendously Colossal Agri-Media, 21 June 2012. </span></div>Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-1318252059209497242012-05-27T08:47:00.003-07:002012-05-27T08:47:54.692-07:00Why do fascists come to America and then want to make it a fascist state?Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5387111611751593492.post-8180910374799811692012-05-24T17:47:00.000-07:002012-05-24T17:47:32.025-07:00New to the blogosphere. Profile to come. Have a suitable photo. Don't have suitable interface to upload yet. Customisation in work (INW). Don't expect much. What I hope to make available: a photo or two, a few music recommendations, an occasional opinion, and a short story now and then.Mr. Scrivner, Twohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00700349995354143654noreply@blogger.com0